It was the second day of Phil’s new job and he collapsed to his knees once more. He squeezed the hilt of the shovel tight and tried to raise himself back to his feet. Regretted letting his father find him work. The first grave he had dug had been easy, but the fourth may as well have been a mountain for how exhausted he was. His hands blistered in ways he had never known possible. His whole palm a map of pus.
Phil had to dig more than one a day because of the man watching him. Told him it was so that his spirit wasn’t to know the one he would end up in. Which would get filled first or last. But still, he figured it was better to be out of the house, away from the others.